


Securus Percipere Volo

by Dragonbano



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (none of the main characters dw its an oc), Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29282448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonbano/pseuds/Dragonbano
Summary: Tommy just,,, felt safer in the closet, okay? He was Fine! It wouldn't matter, he wouldn't be with this foster "family" for long... right?------When a traumatized Tommy moves in with a new foster family, he immediately moves into the closet and refuses to sleep elsewhere. Can the rest of the SBI convince him that they won't hurt him?This is about the mc personas, not the ccs! If any of the ccs involved are uncomfortable with this type of work it will be removed.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 27
Kudos: 291





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [to make a... closet a home?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29150208) by [scribble_stars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribble_stars/pseuds/scribble_stars). 



> I read scribbles' fic and immediately wanted to write it but angstier so... here you go! No promises I'll finish it since I've... literally never finished a fic that was longer than two chapters, but I'll try! The title translates to "I want to feel safe" (I hope! I had to look up the word for feel so idk if its accurate)

Tommy hated this. He hated the waiting. He hated waiting of all sorts, but this kind was definitely the worst. Tommy was currently waiting to see if there were any foster “families” left that didn’t hate him. (A hidden part of his mind interjected that none of it had been his fault. Tommy shut that part up. No one would believe him anyway.) His social worker was multitasking, glaring at him as he switched between spinning in her chair and putting his feet on her desk, while she put on her sweetest voice and begged “families” to take him. He was a problem child, which she was required to tell anyone who wanted to foster him. There weren’t any group “homes” that would take him, at least this late at night, and presumably no foster “families”, so Tommy really didn’t know what would happen to him.

Tommy broke out of his thoughts as Ms. Galinda, the social worker, motioned for him to get up. She finished up her phone conversation before herding Tommy to the car to go... somewhere. It was 1am, where in the world had they found someone to take him? He knew there were people that specifically fostered kids that needed a place to sleep immediately, but still. He usually tried to avoid getting removed from “homes” until normal hours, but he had gotten kicked out from the most recent one and he really didn’t want to be on the streets tonight.

Ms. Galinda was even more bitchy than usual, presumably because Tommy had woken her up at around midnight, and she yelled at him to behave for a couple minutes as she drove him to his new “home”. From what he had gathered before he tuned her out, this newest “family” had two other kids, and had had many other foster kids in the past, so he “need to be on your best behaviour so you don’t scare this man off, Tommy!”, which was _great_ news. Tommy had always had good experiences with foster “siblings”, yup! /s

So yeah. Tommy wasn’t scared about this. Not even a little bit. He was a Big Man, and he wasn’t scared of anything. He could defend himself! He just... chose not to. It’s not like he was allowed to. No one would believe that he hadn’t started it if he hurt anyone, even in self-defense, so he just... didn’t. They had enough reasons to label him a problem child, they didn’t need _more_.

Ms. Galinda pulled up outside of a plain townhouse, finishing her lecture just as she parked. Tommy scrambled out into the darkness outside and grabbed his garbage bag of items. He hoped he’d be allowed to keep them private. He hated when foster “families” snooped through his stuff. This was probably just a very temporary one, so maybe they wouldn’t? Tommy knew that was wishful thinking. That was for people with good luck, good kids, not _Tommy_. Tommy deserved their suspicion; he was a bad kid. (Tommy ignored the voice in the back of his head screaming that he didn’t deserve any of this. It sounded suspiciously like his sister, and, given that it was his fault she was dead, he _sincerely_ doubted it was true).

Tommy hung back as Ms. Galinda rang the doorbell. He didn’t know how he was supposed to introduce himself. He had tried so many things, but he had gotten kicked out or removed for his own safety from every single “home” so far. Tommy knew it was silly, knew that what he introduced himself with had no bearing on what happened, but it was something to keep him occupied. Something to focus on that wasn’t the fact that he was apparently just extremely hateable.

Ms. Galinda waved him up to the steps. He heard his voice say “Hello, I’m Tommy. Thank you for taking me in!” before he realized he had started talking. Tommy blinked. He was in what looked like a living room. How had he gotten there? Ms. Galinda had left, apparently, and the man, presumably his foster “father”, was talking to Tommy. He was midway through what sounded like apologizing for not having a bed ready yet. Tommy made some reply. He wasn’t sure what he said but the man didn’t look offended.

He blinked. He was sitting on a mattress, staring in the direction of a bed containing a sleeping person. He had no clue how long he had zoned out for. (He knew it sounded like dissociation, but he didn’t dissociate, because he was _fine_.) Not for the first time, he wished the 7th “home” hadn’t broken his phone. The one after that hadn’t bothered to buy him a new one, and well. This was the ninth house.

Tommy looked around. There was no way he was sleeping in a room with one of this guy’s _actual_ kids! They probably didn’t even know he was here since they didn’t seem to have been woken up for his arrival. Who knew how upset they’d be when they woke up? That wasn’t a risk Tommy was willing to take. Tommy also usually would just hide under the bed and then set a vibrate alarm for ungodly early, just in case, but there were two problems with that plan. 1: Tommy had no way of setting an alarm. 2: There was no bed to hide under, just a mattress.

There were two doors in the room, one of which was opened and looked out on a hallway. Tommy walked over two the second one and eased it open, thankful that it didn’t squeak. Perfect! It was a walk-in closet, with boxes in it. It seemed all of the clothes belonging to the sleeping person were in the wardrobe outside, so it felt a little less weird to be in their closet.

Tommy took a blanket and his bag from by the mattress and curled up in a ball in the closet with the door closed. This felt safe. Tommy didn’t really know why (Yes he did. If there were walls all around him no one could hurt- no. Tommy stopped that train of thought. He was _fine_ ). Tommy slowly relaxed and eventually drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will update when i have inspiration lol, I cannot stick to a schedule. I know they didn't interact much in this chapter, but it was a necessary prologue. Also the social worker's name wasn't supposed to be a Wicked reference i promise.


	2. fun times in the closet are had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the italics function is abused  
> (tommy wakes up)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it obvious yet how much i hate writing dialogue. also i've challenged myself to not gender people before tommy know their gender. yes this ends on a cliffhanger. suffer. i feed on your agony

Tommy woke up groggily, before realizing he didn’t recognize his surrounding and shooting awake, sitting up only to bang his head on... some sort of wooden beam thing. Where the hell was he? This wasn’t any room in house #8 that he recognized. Tommy glanced around wildly before his memories of the day before, though a bit patchy, came flooding back. He was with new fosters, he was in the closet because he had panicked, and presumably none of the other people in this house knew, which was possibly very bad. Or it could be entirely fine! For all Tommy knew, it was like 4am and no one else was even awake! Its not like he had any way to tell time!

With that bit of optimism in his mind, he slowly opened the closet door a crack. And looked out to find himself staring straight at someone who looked about as surprised to see him as he was to see them. Tommy quickly closed the closet door and resolved to pretend nothing at all had happened. The blond on the other side of the door, unfortunately, didn’t seem to share the sentiment, immediately shouting for “Phil” and “Techno” and informing whoever the fuck those people were that Tommy was in their closet. Which, honestly? Rude. Usually you at least introduce yourself before snitching!! This person had done none of that, just moved straight to ratting Tommy out! Who _did_ that???

Tommy sulked silently about that fact for a bit longer. It was easier than focusing on the punishment he was surely soon to receive. He wondered what it would be. The adult hadn’t said what punishments he could “look forward” to. Or maybe he had, its not like he remembered much of the day before. That was normal though, most people zoned out when they were sent to new places. It _was_ normal! It happened to Tommy almost every time, and he was _fine_ and _normal_.

Tommy was broken out of his thoughts by a firm knock at his- _the_ door. Fuck. Probably the adult. Tommy supposed it was good that the person hadn’t simply barged in. Or the figure might simply want to make him make the “choice” about how they did this. Tommy shook himself out of his thoughts to realize he hadn’t replied.

Just as he thought that, a voice spoke, presumably the grown-up (adult, they were an _adult_ , Tommy wasn’t a stupid child! He used complicated words and knew what they meant and he wasn’t _weak_ , okay?? Fuck off). The voice asked if he was doing okay in there and, having not gotten a reply, proceeded to simply start talking about an annoying experience they had had at the grocery store a bit ago. It was really annoying. (He wouldn’t admit it if you asked but... maybe it was kinda nice. He didn’t _like_ it or anything but. Sometimes it was nice to know that someone else was there. Except when they were hur- no. He wasn’t going there tonight. Not that he’d have much choice, with how stupid he had been, trying to hide in here.)

He really should say something. The longer he kept the human (probably??? Tommy didn’t have proof but like. He seemed human? In Tommy’s, admittedly limited, knowledge of aliens, they didn’t usually foster kids. Maybe Tommy was the first? That would be cool. Then he’d be noticed for something _cool_ , not bruises (that he deserved anyway, the mean part of his brain whispered). But anyway. The adult was most probably a human).

So! Say something. That’s what Tommy should do. “What’s up, big person?”. Tommy cursed his stupid mouth and fucking idiot brain. _Big person_???? Really??? Was he _trying_ to get punished or something?? (A quiet voice whispered that he didn’t deserve to be hur- _punished_ no matter what he did. Tommy shoved that voice back in its box.)

“Just wondering if you were doing alright in there, mate. You missed breakfast; the boys are having lunch downstairs. There are a couple of things we need to discuss at some point, but those can wait. Do you like chicken noodle soup? I can bring a bowl up, or you can come down if you want.”

Tommy sat, absorbing the information. The choice was obviously a false one, but it was still nice to be asked. (A voice in the back of his head whispered that it might not be a trick. Tommy ignored it. It had never once been right.).

Chicken noodle soup. Huh. That was his (biological) mom’s favorite meal. She always made it for him when he was sick. It was the last meal she had made him before- no. It was fucking _soup_. Tommy was **not** going to cry about this.

“That sounds good, I’ll come down, don’t worry buddy”

_Buddy_??? What has he, 5??? Tommy wasn’t a child! He wasn’t! He was a _Big Man_ , and he could take care of himself and he **wasn’t weak**. Tommy stood up and tried to make himself presentable. It was probably a lost cause, but he could at least try.

He opened the door gingerly to see the adult from last night sitting there. When they had responded affirmatively to his most recent comment, he had assumed they had left. Stupid. Of _course_ he hadn’t left. He obviously didn’t trust Tommy to come down on his own, and for good reason. Tommy was a problem child, and he would never be anything else. He had to stop forgetting that.

When they saw Tommy, they walked out the door of the sleeping person from last night’s room, into the hall. They expected to follow on his own, which was fair. He **wasn’t** a child, after all. It was still kind of nice, even if the adult hadn’t done it for him. (Tommy didn’t like people walking behind him. It was silly and for no reason. Obviously.).

When Tommy finally stepped into the kitchen, there were three people already sitting at the table. They all glanced up as he walked in, but quickly looked down, which was really fucking weird. Appreciated, maybe, but still fucking weird. There was a fourth chair set out for him. Tommy glanced around. Against a wall, but with an easy escape route. Good.

He sat down and was almost immediately handed a bowl of chicken noodle soup. He quickly started eating to avoid having to talk to them. It probably wasn’t poisoned, and if it was, they’d make him eat it anyway, so no point in dragging out the inevitable. Yes, Tommy liked to talk, but not with fosters. He liked talking, which led to him being annoying, which led to him being punished. If he didn’t talk, he could avoid that whole depressing flowchart. The one person he did like talking with, however, was Tubbo. Tommy hoped he’d be able to talk to Tubbo again soon.

Tommy hadn’t been in contact with him since about halfway through house seven so... two months ago? About? House 8 hadn’t lasted long. Tubbo was probably really worried, but there was nothing Tommy could do. He hoped Tubbo would still want to see him, after he had ghosted him, albeit accidentally.

Tommy looked up when his name was said. He had zoned out of the conversation, which was never good. He had apparently been asked something about the closet. Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you probably won't get a chapter soon since the next scene is yknow. entirely dialogue becuase its a conversation. or ill write it in an hour. there is no inbetween


	3. aaaaaaaaaa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is true for the whole story, but i wanted to clarify that especially in this chapter Tommy is an unreliable narrator! i do not agree with his opinions on things, they just made sense for the story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written a couple of days ago while vaguely dissociated and I haven't looked at it since. I'll be just as surprised as you guys at what I wrote, I genuinely don't remember all of it. Have fun!

Tommy was confused. This wasn’t how it worked!! There were _Rules_ and they were the one consistent thing and he _needed_ them to be consistent because otherwise he didn’t have anything and this was Wrong!! They weren’t supposed to be nice about him being a coward. He was supposed to get in trouble. That’s how the world worked. Showing weakness gets you punished. Water is wet. The sky is blue. Technically you could debate the two latter statements but still, his point stands.

They said he could stay in there if he wanted to. They weren’t showing any of the usual sign of this being a trick or them being upset. Tommy was so confused. But to admit that would be weakness and he _can’t_ be weak. He is Tommy, and he is big, and he is strong, and he is _fine_.

Tommy asked to stay in the closet. There was no reason not to. If it wasn’t a trick, this was the better option, and if it was, they’d figure out a different way to trick him even if he got it correct so why even try.

Tommy stared at his hands. They were shaking. That wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Tommy wished they would stop. He tuned back into the conversation. They had moved on from talking to him. He still didn’t know anyone’s name. The tall bitch was talking about some random country. Tommy hadn’t caught the name.

Tommy blinked. He was in the dark. Why was he in the dark? Oh- the closet. He was in the closet. He was safe. Good. The closet- the closet was safe. Yeah.

Fuck. What- what time was it. How did time work. Was time even real. Why did time exist. Did some people just like decide that time was gonna be a thing now? Why. Why would someone _want_ time to exist.

Anyways. That last thing he remembered was... lunch? There had been chicken noodle soup and they had asked him about the closet and... fuck. Why was he so fucking stupid. He had said that the closet made him feel safer, implying that he didnt feel safe around them. That wasn’t allowed!! He knew that! What was it with this house making him let his guard down and break rules?? He knew better than this. Stupid.

Okay. Okay. He could deal with this. It would be fine. Step one: go out of the room, find a clock, avoid the others. Step two: ...he’d figure something out.

Tommy stepped out into the tall fuck’s bedroom. Okay. The living coatrack was absent, so it probably wasn’t late at night. It was still vaguely light outside. Sunset-ish then? And it was late fall so... 6-7 pm? Probably? Fuck. Five hours. That was a long time. What the fuck had happened? He had obviously had something similar to a panic attack ( _not_ a panic attack, he was a Big Man, he wasn’t **weak** ).

But those didn’t usually last _5 hours_. Tommy went back in the closet but actually turned on the light this time. He looked around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Okay. Okay. This was fine. He had lost time. Again. He had probably been in the closet for most of it so it was fine? He needed to stop that though.

Yes, the closet was safe, but he needed to stop depending on that. He could get through a single conversation. He could stay out with the “family”. _Sleeping_ in the closet made sense. He couldn’t protect himself while he was asleep; no one could. But when he was awake? He needed to stop. So Tommy was going to go downstairs and have a fucking conversation and it would be _fine_.

Tommy walked down the stairs. He could see all three of the humans (presumably) sitting on the couch and watching something on the absurdly fancy TV. Why was a person with this much money fostering kids? People only fostered kids to either get money or have a punching bag. The adult had given no indication so far that he wanted to hurt Tommy, but you could never tell.

They were watching Spiderman: Homecoming. Tommy had heard it was good from the kids at his last school. Tommy wondered what day it was. Would he have to go to school soon? He missed his last school, he had actually made a friend there, someone who put up with his annoyingness. Tubbo had watched Spiderman: Homecoming and really liked it. He would want Tommy to watch it.

Tommy tried to make himself walk the rest of the way down the stairs but he couldn’t make himself move. What if they hurt him? They’d be well within their rights to. Tommy had (presumably) run away from lunch, hidden in the closet, and was now leaving the closet without permission and, if he went down there, annoying them.

Maybe he could just watch from up there. He could see the screen well enough from there, and he couldn’t annoy anyone if he wasn’t there. Tommy wished, not for the first time, that he knew how to act normal. He was always either silent or annoyingly talkative and he didn’t know how to be anything in-between.

He wasn’t anything like Tubbo. When Tubbo was around Tommy, he was loud, but he still managed to charm adults and figure out the amount of talking required for any situation. Tommy just didn’t understand how. He _could_ talk a “normal” amount, but he had to focus on everything he was saying constantly and it was really tiring, and he sometimes got so focused on how much he was talking he forgot to talk. He usually just didn’t try. Maybe that was why adults always eventually hated him.

Eventually the movie ended. Tommy silently crept back upstairs before any of the others moved, and put himself back in the closet. He fell asleep to the sound of someone shuffling around in the tall child’s bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i said this before but id like to say it again: this fic is probably gonna be abandoned after this chapter. or ill be back in a week with an update. i genuinely dont know which


End file.
